


Flaming Nargles

by Antosha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Christmas, F/F, F/M, Flaming Nargles Holiday Challenge, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hanukkah, Holidays, Luna Lovegood Being Luna Lovegood, Moving Portraits (Harry Potter), Multi, New Years, Past Blaise Zabini/Ginny Weasley - Freeform, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Polyamory, Polygyny, Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Post-War, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Threesome - F/F/M, flaming nargles, russian christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antosha/pseuds/Antosha
Summary: The holidays are supposed to be a time that brings the people you love together; Luna likes that. (H/L, G/L, H/G/L. Written pre-DH.)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 20





	1. Festival of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my entry in plaidphoenix's holiday challenge on flamingnargle. Woohoo! I did meet the basic challenge (a H/G/L fic set during the holidays). I originally intended to fulfill several of the extra prompts--including the near-outing, someone else trying to set them up and the second threesome. Alas, only one of the extras stuck:
> 
> e)Harry/Ginny/Luna celebrate the holidays with all their families, the Weasleys, Mister and Misses Lovegood AND James and Lily without the use of a time-turner or making the story A/U.
> 
> Thanks to aberforths_rug for the wonderful beta: a great holiday gift indeed!
> 
> Note: no Nargles were harmed in the writing of this fic.

_December 25, 2005_

Luna carefully lifted the mistletoe by the loop of tinsel with which she had lassoed it and hung it from the headboard.

She liked Christmas at the Burrow. The holiday itself meant nothing at all to her, and she knew that the Weasleys (and her husband) felt the absence of Arthur and Molly deeply. But there was something festive and fierce about the way that Ronald and Ginny's family celebrated the day. And it made her heart go all bubbly to see how Harry loved to be made to feel as if he were actually part of a family.

Raising her wand, Luna levitated from her overnight bag the two framed photos that always stayed by their bedside: Harry's parents at their wedding and her own just after her birth. So happy. The two couples waved giddily at her as she floated them next to a photo of the elder Weasleys on the nightstand. There.

The holidays for Luna had always been about marking the solstice with her father, as she had with Harry, and lighting the _menorah_ with her mum, as she had done herself tonight. Very quiet. And no great pressure to be happy. Sunreturn was lovely whether you were happy or not-the sun certainly didn't care.

Luna _loved_ Christmas at the Burrow. Truly. But this year was a bit more noisy than usual.

The Weasleys looked to Christmas as a time for renewing joy, and they were badly in need of renewal just now-so many things to digest. Of course, Mr. Weasley's death had been blessedly sudden, yet Luna was amazed that he had managed to survive his wife for so long. Come to that, she was amazed that her own father had soldiered on for so long without Mum. He had looked almost relieved when the opportunity to rejoin her overtook him.

It occurred to Luna-not for the first time-that a quick and painless death had much to recommend it, but it was rather a difficult challenge for the living even without the usual unusual hurdles of divorce, miscarriage and heartache.

Luna was in a happy mood-joyous, even-and wished the Weasleys the same. But after almost a full day of being dazzled by all of the brightness that they were generating in trying to sail past all of the shadows, Luna needed some time to her self.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

Well, surprises were always good too. Luna liked surprises. “ _Ckklazxchi_!” she called.

After a moment's pause, the door cracked open and Ginny's face poked through. “Did you just say 'I'm pregnant' in Gobbledygook?”

“No. That was 'come in' in Yeti. Also 'come here.' Since Yetis spend almost all of their time in caves, the two phrases are identical.”

“Oh,” Ginny said, stepping through the door. She looked as if she were trying to suppress a sneeze. “You do that on purpose, don't you. Say random things just to make me laugh.”

Luna thought about this for a moment. “No, Ginny, I can't say that I do. However, if it gets you to smile, then perhaps I should. I haven't seen you smile enough lately. You might get out of practice.”

With a heavy sigh, Ginny stared at the tiny, lit _menorah_ in the window. “Can't have that, now, can we?”

“No, Ginny, I don't believe that we can.” Luna patted the bedspread in front of her. Ginny meandered over, her gaze still out the window that had once been Ronald's. “Though I can understand that you wouldn't be feeling terribly caught up in the holiday spirit.”

“Well, neither are you, when it comes to that.”

“Hanukkah isn't a particularly spirited holiday, though I find the lights cheerful-don't you? And the solstice is past. So I'm mostly enjoying the season through Harry and your family.” Luna picked up her wand and Summoned a brush from her trunk.

“Yeah,” Ginny muttered, her eyes following the brush's path before flicking back to the _menorah_ , and then out to where snowflakes were battering like moths against the window, “we're a jolly lot, aren't we? Luna, you're really not pregnant, right?”

“Oh, I don't believe so, no.”

“Well, that's a relief. I don't think I could deal with Hermione and Ron just now if you and Harry announced that you were expecting.”

“Yes,” Luna mused. They had lost their most recent just three weeks ago. “That would rather dampen the pleasure of the thing, wouldn't it?”

Ginny nodded, her face still glumly peering out the window. Candlelight glowed on the undersurfaces of her face.

For the second time, Luna patted the comforter. “ _Ckklazxchi_ , Ginny.”

Favoring Luna with a half-hearted smile, Ginny plopped herself down on the bed. She didn't usually follow suggestions so easily; generally it took at least three attempts to get Ginny to follow along.

This simply wouldn't do. “Well, I'm so glad you've come up,” Luna said. “I feel as if I've hardly seen you.”

The smile tipped up, involving Ginny's eyes a bit more-a beginning, at least. “Luna, silly, you've been right next to me all day.”

“Oh, but that wasn't you. You were pretending all day, just like Ronald and Hermione and Percy.” Luna ran her fingers through Ginny's pot-bottom-bright locks. “This is really you, and I'm always happiest when you're really here.”

Ginny's small mouth fell open, then closed. Such a lovely mouth. “Luna, I...”

“Come,” Luna said, raising the brush, “I'll plait your hair.”

Ginny's eyes questioned Luna darkly, but she meekly allowed Luna to begin brushing out the ends of her hair. “We haven't done this... Nobody's done my hair... in ages.” A kind of feline contentment softened Ginny's face. “I feel ancient, Luna. I feel....”

“You're not ancient, you know. You're just twenty-four. I always thought twenty-four was a rather nice age.”

“Really? What's so nice about twenty-four?”

Gingerly, Luna removed a clip from her friend's hair; it was in the shape of a Snitch. Harry had given it to her the year that he, Ron and Hermione had been chasing after Tom Riddle Jr. Luna placed it in Ginny's lap.

As Luna continued to brush, Ginny stared down at the pin. At last, she sighed, “Christmas is just so hard. Thinking of Dad last year. That Christmas of sixth year... Going to the, the Yule Ball with Blaise.” The two of them blazing like _hanukkiyot_. She hung upon the night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear. Ginny lifted the Snitch. “Getting this the next day. And Boxing Day...”

The attack on the Burrow. None of the children there. Mr. Weasley at work. Mrs. Weasley defending her home- _this_ home-against a band of Death Eaters. Taking down three of them before she died as had her brothers before her, wand in hand.

Luna ran the brush along the silken flame of Ginny's hair, smooth and gleaming from root to tip. “Twenty-four is nice because one has left adolescence behind, I think, but life is still all about open possibilities.”

“Maybe that's why I feel so old.” Ginny glanced back at Luna, her eyes dark. “Possibilities don't seem so open to me.”

Luna nodded and began using her fingers and the brush to separate her hair into two bunches, one on either side. When Ginny said nothing, Luna began to plait one side of her hair, fingers threading through one thick length of flame and braiding: over and under, around and through. Ginny sat straight and still, shoulders square as if she were twelve again. Which was the last time that Luna had been able to do this.

“I feel like a rotten friend, Luna,” Ginny sighed at last. Luna's fingers moved on. “I made my choice that winter, I went with Blaise to the ball, I kissed Blaise, I thought, Hell, Blaise is _here_. Blaise is lovely and beautiful and wants me, and Harry let me go. And I _married_ him. And then it all fell apart. And I come here. And there's Harry, and you, and you're both so happy, and I don't want to change that, I love you both, I really do, but it hurts to see you so happy, you know?”

Luna thought about that. “Yes. I think I do.” Her fingers paused in their weaving and touched Ginny on the cheek, just below the line of freckles, and smoothed away a single tear that was meandering down. “You never really forget your first love, I think.”

Ginny laughed, which struck Luna as odd, but made her middle liquid nonetheless. “Do you still get pangs when you look at _Ron_?”

“Ronald?” Luna puzzled at her friend, and then shook her head. “Oh. No.”

“I didn't think so.” Ginny's smile faded a bit, and she stared down at the Snitch in her lap. “Blaise really was... lovely. Really. He tried so bloody hard. But he kept waiting for me to turn into his Mum, and after a while, I just couldn't...” She shrugged.

“Did she really use Skrewt venom to poison all seven of them?”

Again, a sad laugh. “No. No, I don't think she murdered any of them, Lucretia. I think she just likes the whole Black Widow mystique. Mostly, she married all of these ancient pureblood bachelor wizards for their money and Floo'd them off to the Caribbean where she danced them and slept them to death.” Ginny twirled the clip between her fingers, the wings fluttering. “At the end, I got on with her rather better than I did with him.”

“Oh,” Luna murmured. Neither she nor Harry had parents. Neither of them had in-laws, either, which rather followed, Luna supposed. Banding off the second plait, she reached out and took the Snitch from Ginny's hand. Turning her friend toward her, Luna placed the clip back in Ginny's hair. “Ronald wasn't my first love, you know. I never loved Ronald. Well, not romantically, in any case.”

Ginny blinked. “What are you on about? The whole of third and fourth year you found every chance you could to come and talk to me about... Oh.” Bright brown eyes widened.

“Yes,” Luna said. “What I actually told you that first day in Arithmancy was that I was in love with someone with red hair. I wanted to tell you, but Marietta and some of the other older Ravenclaws said some rather dreadful things about boys who loved boys and girls who loved girls, that they were evolutionary dead-ends and deviants. I didn't mind being thought of as deviant, but I couldn't stand the idea of you thinking I was, and so when you assumed that I was in love with your brother, I just... played along.” Suddenly, Luna remembered how it felt to be thirteen years old. It really was a most peculiar feeling.

“Oh, Luna,” Ginny said, her pale lashes fluttering most lovelily. Suddenly her face darkened. “Bloody Marietta. I always hated that bint.”

“Hmm,” Luna said, willing to wait for Ginny to get past her sense of injustice and loyalty to find out what she actually thought of Luna's revelation. When in doubt, Ginny always got angry with someone first. It could be quite endearing, even when the person she was angry with was you. Though then it was also a little frightening. “I thought you hated her at first because she was always telling Cho how cute Harry was.”

Ginny's hawk eyes focused on Luna. “That's true. But she's still a bint. Luna. Do you really? Like girls?”

“I love you.”

Ginny's face suddenly dropped. “ _Luna_.” Her hand fluttered up to where Luna had touched her cheek earlier.

“Oh,” Luna said. “I'm terribly sorry. It really isn't something I can do anything about, you know, and-“

“I don't _want_ you to do anything, Luna, it's not a problem, really, I just... I mean, what about Harry?”

“Oh,” Luna said, pondering her friend; Ginny didn't usually ask such silly questions. “I love him too, of course.”

Given her open-mouthed stare, Luna would have assumed that a Wrackspurt had floated suddenly through Ginny's ear if years of friendship hadn't taught her that this was Ginny's reaction when Luna had said something unexpected.

“Well,” Luna said, trying to clarify things, “he _is_ my husband, after all. And he's quite a wonderful, lovely man.”

That brought Ginny's eyes back to their usual sharp focus. “Yes, he is.”

“And he's still quite in love with you, you know. We laugh about it quite a bit, that if we hadn't found each other, we would have been terribly lonely. Pining after you.”

“Yeah,” Ginny answered, fine fingers passing across her forehead. “Very funny. But... Look, Luna, I know you're trying to be sweet, but don't say that Harry-“

“He does love you. Of course, he was rather angry with you after the war, but he knew he'd given you your freedom and knew you too well to think you wouldn't use it.” When Ginny's face fell, Luna leaned forward and continued in a whisper, for no particularly good reason that she could ascertain, “When Neville wrote him after that Christmas to tell him that you were with Blaise, he was relieved, Ginny. It made him happy to think that you'd find happiness even if he died.”

“Bloody git.” Ginny's eyes were glistening.

“Well, it was a braver choice than mine. I never even told you.”

A blink flicked a tear from Ginny's eye to Luna's cheek. “Hold on, Luna. You're the bravest person I've ever known. Don't you dare say that. I'd never let anyone else.”

Luna's middle warmed again. “Be that as it may, it seems to me that we have an opportunity to give everyone what they want.” Luna placed a hand in Ginny's and noticed with some curiosity that it was trembling.

Ginny's dark eyes flitted down to their hands and up to Luna's face. “Luna? Do you...? Are you saying you want to _share_ him with me?”

“How interesting. I think, from my point of view, it works out more to sharing you with him. But I suppose it works out about the same. I'm not terribly knowledgeable about this sort of arrangement.”

Ginny glanced away, her face darkening, but her hand stayed in Luna's. “No. Neither am I.”

“Ginny?” The redhead stared up, eyes wide again. “Does it make you feel terribly uncomfortable that I told you that I love you?”

“I...” Ginny closed her mouth, then opened it again. “No, Luna. I just... It's a lot to think about. I've never thought of you as anything but a wonderful friend... I've never even _kissed_ another girl.”

“I've never kissed anyone but Harry. But I'd like to kiss you. Would you like to kiss me? Just to try?” Luna could feel both of their hands shaking now, could feel Ginny's uneven breath on her chin. She felt cold. Pointing behind her to the headboard, she said. “Look. Mistletoe.”

Ginny began to lean forward, and then laughed nervously. “Um. Aren't you afraid of, um, you know...”

“Nargles? Oh, no. It's past the solstice. They're past their mating season. In fact, kissing beneath the mistletoe is essential to their life cycle. It causes them to combust spontaneously, thus quickening the fertilized eggs. Let me show you. _Ckklazxchi._ ”

Luna closed the last gap between their faces-it wasn't terribly far, actually-and pressed her lips to Ginny's as she had wanted to do since they were both twelve. Since the last time that she had asked Ginny to let her braid her hair. Luna knew she wasn't terribly worldly when it came to kissing, her only previous partner being a man who himself had had far too little practice before their wedding. But the feeling of Ginny's warm lips against hers, the lightning strike of Ginny's tongue into her mouth-she knew enough to know that these things were very good indeed. Luna felt that liquid feeling, that happiness she knew could not be pursued, only arrived at, and she found her fingers gripping tight around Ginny's new plaits. She only hoped that Ginny, who had kissed far more people, many of them reputedly quite good at kissing and such, would not be too disappointed.

There were several sharp _pops_ ; Ginny and Luna both looked up to see red sparks flying from the mistletoe above Luna's head.

“Wow,” Ginny said breathlessly.

“Yes, they're quite lovely, aren't they?”

“I wasn't talking about the flaming bloody Nargles, Luna. That was...”

Luna found herself staring at her friend's wet mouth. Perhaps a Wrackspurt had wandered into _her_ ear? Luna didn't usually have trouble thinking. “Um. Yes. Lovely. Oh. I've undone your plaits.”

“Bugger the plaits,” Ginny said, climbing into Luna's lap and kissing her in a way that made Luna forget all about Nargles or Wrackspurts.

When-some five minutes later-a creaking step reminded Luna that she did have a husband whom both she and her new lover (How did you define a lover if it wasn't a boy, since the dividing line wasn't so clean? Though Ginny and Luna had, in five minutes or so, covered several of the more obvious points quite efficiently) both loved quite dearly. Luna leaned up from where she seemed to have pinned Ginny to the bed and was about to try to start a conversation with Ginny when the door opened.

Harry stood there, his face pulled between sadness and shock.

“How are Ron and Hermione?” Luna found herself asking breathily.

“Terrible,” Harry muttered. He didn't move. He was staring at Ginny, whose fingers were clutching at Luna's arms.

“Oh, dear, Harry,” Luna said. “I thought to make sure that the two of us didn't mind sharing you with each other, and I let Ginny know that I didn't mind sharing her with you. But I didn't think to ask you if you minded sharing me with Ginny. I'm so sorry. I just assumed, I'm afraid.”

Sadness fell away; shock had won the battle for Harry's face.

“Harry,” said Ginny, her voice husky and keen, “I was horribly stupid eight years ago. I chose Blaise and I chose wrong, and it was my choice, but I regret it more... I don't want to intrude, and I don't want to mess up what the two of you have. But I do want-“

“I know what you want, Ginny.” Sealing the door wandlessly behind him, Harry gave a deep sigh, and Luna's tongue tightened; she hadn't heard that particular sad sigh from the man she loved in a long time, and it suddenly occurred to her to question what had seemed like such a good idea just a few minutes earlier.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” both women said.

Harry's mouth stayed downturned, but his eyes brightened, and the dread in Luna's throat lightened. “ _Sorry_? Don't be sorry. I just walked into a bloody fantasy. But I can't...” He frowned and walked slowly towards them. “Ginny, you and Blaise got married the same summer we did, right? And you've been divorced, what? Three months? Four?”

Her hands still tight on Luna's biceps, Ginny answered, “Four. And separated for six months before that.”

“Did you love Blaise, Ginny?” Harry's tone was cold, but Luna knew he was trying to be kind.

So did Ginny evidently; she took a slow breath and said, “Yes, Harry. I loved him very much. He was a beautiful, fascinating man.” Ginny turned beneath her, and Luna sat back. “Do you know why I divorced him, Harry?”

Harry probably shook his head; Luna kept looking at Ginny, however, fascinated by the flow of red and white across her cheeks.

“He was terrified of me. All of the things that had made him ask me out in the first place-my passion, my loyalty-were things we both discovered he couldn't take. Well, my hair and my face and my body he could take just fine, but not _me_. He's terrified of his _mother_ , the poor boy, and she never raised her voice. If you got her hacked off, she might not say anything in the moment, but you'd pay for whatever you'd done for years. He never understood that what he saw when I got angry was _it_ ; there wasn't any fury in reserve. Once I was calm again, it was over. I wouldn't curse him in his sleep or poison him at supper. I spent the last three years trying to quiet down, trying to be the understated pureblood wife, trying to be someone I'm not, and I couldn't do it. Not for Blaise, not for anybody. Harry,” she said, a challenge flaring in her eye, “are you frightened of me? Luna?” Bright eyes flashed from one of them to the other.

Harry shook his head. “No,” Luna said. “I'm fond of you just the way you are. Even when you're angry.”

The mottled pink-and-white of Ginny's skin flushed evenly. She reached up and ran her fingers through Luna's hair. “Thank you. Harry, I did love Blaise. I tried, and so did he. But we just couldn't make it work, and I think we both realized, by the end, that it was _never_ going to work. And for the past year or more, since before we split up, it's been very hard for me not to think of you. Of you and Luna, and what you have. It's been very hard to think that I could have probably had that, if I hadn't been sixteen and proud and impatient and so pleased to be pursued by this gorgeous man. If I hadn't be so _angry_ with you, Harry, for leaving me behind.”

He sat upon the edge of the bed and nodded. Very quietly, Harry told Ginny what Luna had heard him say only once, very late at night, when his sobs had awakened her. “I regretted that... It nearly killed me when the three of you were attacked at Hogwarts and Neville died. I'd been telling myself you were better off without me, better at Hogwarts, better with Blaise-and then you were nearly killed anyway, and I felt like such a git... You are so amazing, Ginny. I did love you and do love you and Blaise Zabini is a bigger fool than I'll ever be to let you go without a fight.” Taking Luna's hand, he turned towards her. “But Ginny, just as you made your choice, I made mine. I've been fortunate, however, more fortunate than I could have imagined or ever deserved. I love Luna deeply, and what we have _does_ work, even if both of us do nurture an old flame for a beautiful redheaded friend. I won't risk that for anything.”

“Harry-” Ginny said, but he pressed a finger gently to her lips.

“Ginny, I know a part of me-of you and me, I suppose-will always wonder if we could have made something together. I know that a part of Luna will always be curious to know if she could have found something with you. But if I weren't here-if I'd died or something-would you even consider Luna as a lover? Because she deserves to be given the same depth of love that she gives. I do my best, god knows. Do you think you could do that?”

Her eyes dark, Ginny looked from Harry to Luna. To where her fingers were still knotted in Luna's hair. “I don't know, Harry. I don't think it had ever occurred to me until a half an hour ago.” Ginny's fingers gave Luna's lips a petal-light brush that made Luna shiver. “But I would like to try.”

“Harry,” Luna said, before her husband could find other reasons to say no, “when you walked in that door and saw us, what did you think?”

“I...” He gave her a small smile that told her everything. “But Luna, fantasy it may have been, but is fantasy any kind of basis for reality?”

“In my experience, most things worth having have a foot firmly planted in each.” He closed his mouth again in a way that made her smile. “Harry, do you remember our wedding vows?”

He scrunched his brow. “Um, generally, yeah. 'To have and to hold from this day forth' and all of that.”

“And you have loved me for better and-very rarely-for worse ever since.” She kissed him, her tongue searching and finding his as Ginny's had found hers so recently, and she felt both Harry and Ginny catch their breaths; it was quite exciting. “Harry, we have each other. We hold each other. And if we choose together to have and to hold someone else that we both love, does that weaken what we have, or does that strengthen it?”

He rested his forehead against her temple. “It frightens me, Luna. I'm afraid I'd lose you both.”

She nodded. “You were frightened of losing Ginny once before. Did listening to that fear help you? She didn't wait for you, but more to the point, Harry, did it keep her safe?” She felt the weight of his head roll against hers as he shook it. She kissed him again and felt the resistance melting away. She leaned back, smiled at him, and then bent down to kiss an astonished Ginny, who squeaked as Harry gasped. Most exciting. Truly. Once the taste of the two mouths had mixed thoroughly on her palate, she sat back. “Do you both trust me to say if this isn't working?”

They both nodded mutely, eyes locked on Luna.

With her hands, she forced them to look to each other. “And do you trust one another?”

After a moment, Harry nodded. Ginny broke into a bright, nervous smile. “Oh, yes,” she said.

“Well, then,” said Luna, and watched in wonder as the two people she loved most in the world leaned in to each other and exchanged their first kiss since before the late headmaster's death.

It occurred to Luna as she felt her husband pull her into the embrace with them that there really were some rather complicated issues to resolve: Who would sleep in the middle? Would Harry continue to do the cooking, or would he and Ginny take it in turns, and if they did, who would clean the dishes? Could a single human heart take the joy that two sets of arms, two mouths, two lovely souls were currently sparking in her?

A series of _pops_ announced that several more Nargles had gone to their just reward, ensuring the continuation of the species. When Harry and Ginny glanced up toward the mistletoe, Luna looked over to the three pictures on the nightstand. All three couples were in the central frame: three heads of red hair, two blonds, and one of tousled black. They all seemed to be applauding.

Luna smiled and waved at them. _Happy holidays_ she mouthed, and leaned back to bury herself in Harry and Ginny's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of what shaped this story for me was the fact that all of the Harry/Ginny/Luna stories that I'd seen, including those that I'd written, either started with Harry and Ginny as an established couple, occasionally had Ginny and Luna finding each other and then including Harry, or (like The Locked Room) brought the three of them together spontaneously. I wanted to explore a story that started with Harry and Luna happily together and added Ginny to the mix. Also, the idea of _frum_ Luna Lovegood amused me. :-)


	2. Eight Flaming Nargles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the season of light. (The Hanukkah following Flaming Nargles.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by thistlerose's lovely Luna-kkah ficlet, The Dreidl Code.

_December 23, 2006_

“All right,” said Hermione, a yarmulke perched atop her wildly curly hair, “I understand the menorah, and the dreidl, but…” Her face grayed. “Can you explain the _food_?”

“Well,” Luna said, passing a serving bowl to Ginny, who thanked Luna for it with a subtle caress up the inside of her forearm, “you know that the festival celebrates the miracle of the lamp at the temple burning for eight days when there was only oil for one.”

“God’s nightlight,” said Harry.

Luna favored her husband with a smile. “Like the Yule log, the Saturnalia bonfire, the Diwali _diya_ , the Goblin _flarkfyr_ or the Nargle flame, it’s a way of celebrating light at the darkest time of the year.”

“Christmas tree,” mumbled Ronald around his food—it’s the first thing he had said all evening, which was unusual for him.

“He means that the Christmas tree’s the same kind of thing,” Ginny said, smiling brightly.

“Oh,” gasped Luna, “I never thought of that!”

Ginny and Harry laughed. Ron smiled. The edges of Hermione’s mouth twisted upward, but her face was growing more and more pallid. “I do understand all of that,” she said; her lips pursed together. “But… the food…”

“Oh,” Luna said, “well, as I was saying, it’s all about the oil.”

“ _Yes,_ ” groaned Hermione through gritted teeth. “But… isn’t it usually… potato pancakes… or something?”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Luna.

“But you see, Hermione,” added Harry, grinning, “British potatoes have a scent that disrupts the Nargle mating process.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want _that_ to happen,” continued Ginny.

“And I couldn’t find any Polish potatoes at the market,” finished Luna.

“But…” groaned Hermione, “ _kung pao_ chicken and b… _baba ganoush_?”

“’S yummy,” said Ron, but dropped his fork when his wife lunged from her chair, sprinting towards the toilet. After a grimaced apology, he ran after her, only to shuffle back into the room seconds later. “Sorry,” he said, picking up Hermione’s abandoned yarmulke from the floor and placing it with his own atop his head.

“So?” asked Ginny.

Ron slumped back down into his seat. “She’s fourteen weeks along,” he said quietly. “First time she’s made it out of the first trimester, and the healers say the baby looks healthy, all systems go and all, Hermione keeps saying, but… Look, I’m sorry we haven’t told anyone. After so many disappointments, we didn’t want to jinx it.”

“Congratulations, Ron!” said Harry; Ginny joined him and Luna found herself saying _mazel tov_ , even though her mother had always said you needed to wait until you were sure everything had gone perfectly to wish someone well, or the Canary might play a trick on you for being presumptuous.

“You’ll have to tell Bill and Fleur soon,” Ginny told her brother. “She can smell a pregnant woman a mile away.”

_Oh, dear,_ thought Luna. _I should probably tell someone soon._

“And if not that,” continued Ginny, “she’ll think Hermione doesn’t like French food.”

“Oh,” Ron said, eyes peering towards the loo. “Yeah. That wouldn’t be good.”

Hermione came in, her expression uncharacteristically sheepish. Her husband sprang up and pulled out her chair for her. “Thank you, Ron,” she murmured as she sat, and then she looked up at her friends. “So…”

“I told them, love,” said Ron, his huge hand on Hermione’s in a manner that struck Luna as both wonderfully supportive and wonderfully protective.

“Oh.”

“ _Mazel tov,_ ” said Luna, tempting the Canary again.

Hermione smiled, the first full smile that Luna had seen from her in years. “Thank you, Luna. She reached out for the dreidl in the middle of the table. “A great miracle happened here…”

“Hear, hear!” cheered Harry as Ginny clapped.

Hermione grinned at the three of them, her eyes sparkling. “Thanks. All of you. And… Oh, Luna, I’m so sorry to have ruined your lovely meal.”

“Oh, you needn’t apologize to me,” Luna said, quite pleased. “Ginny and Harry did all of the cooking. They won’t let me anywhere near the kitchen. I just put out the _menorah_ and hung the mistletoe.”

Everyone laughed, though Luna couldn’t quite see why.

“Do you know what I’d _really_ love just now?” Hermione said, color finally coming back into her face. “I’ve been craving some macadamia nut ice cream. I don’t suppose you’d have any?”

Again Luna found herself smiling. “Why, yes, Hermione, we do. As it happens, I’ve been craving just the same thing.”

Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows and Harry and Ginny each blinked at her. She kissed them each in turn rather passionately, sparking an eruption of flame from the Nargles in the mistletoe overhead.


	3. New Nargles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should auld acquaintance be forgot...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a present for aberforths_rug, my douty beta.
> 
> Happy, happy! Akemashite omedeto gozai masu!
> 
> Warnings : Implied threesome (gasp!). New parent weirdness. Holiday fluff. Follows HBP canon.
> 
> Note: As always, no Nargles were harmed in the writing of this fic.

_December 31, 2007_

As they walked away from the restaurant, Luna linked her arm through Harry’s. “Thank you for the lovely anniversary, Harry.”

He smiled at her—one of his more self-flagellant smiles—and kissed her cheek. “I wanted it to be special, love.”

“And it was,” Luna answered, honestly.

He sighed, leaning his temple against hers as they strode down Diagon Alley. Their breaths ghosted through the bright-lit night. “Yeah, yeah. But dinner—”

“Was marvelous,” Luna stated fairly unequivocally. “There was no way for you to know that there would be a baby—”

“And that it would _cry_ —”

“And that I would _leak…_ ” They stopped and looked at each other. And laughed. After all, what else was there to do? When they had finally giggled themselves out, Luna mused, “I did feel sorry for the little thing.”

“Did you?” Harry snorted.

“And for the parents. They looked dreadfully mortified.”

“As well they should!” crowed Harry. “Bringing a baby to a nice restaurant on New Year’s bloody Eve! What were they _thinking_?”

“Well,” Luna said, after considering, “I am sure they were thinking of having a rather lovely meal, and welcoming in the New Year, just as we were.” Leaning forward, she kissed her husband on the lips. “Unfortunately for them, they don’t have a wonderful partner like you and I do to mind the child.”

Harry kissed her back, pulling her close, and soon Luna thought it likely that she might start leaking all over again, but she wasn’t at all certain that she cared.

The kiss meandered on for quite some time. Eventually, they were once again staring at one another, steam floating up from their mouths managing to obscure everything but Luna’s view of Harry. He was smiling again, and she could feel his eagerness, and as much as the idea of _that_ was still a bit frightening, it was more than a little exciting. It was odd, too, to think how few moments like this they had had over the past two years. Luna was fascinated by the impulses at war in her heart, mind and body: she found that she was triumphantly jealous of this little bit of intimacy with her husband, even as she desperately longed to share it with her other love. Her other _loves_.

Harry apparently was thinking the same thing. “It’s odd to have this now, just us, isn’t it? Wonderful, but odd.”

“I suppose,” Luna conceded. “But you and she spent some evenings alone right after Brian was born.”

“Only because you—”

“Of course, Harry. I was happy to have the space, and to know that if I needed either of you, you were right there.” His smile, which had shown signs of fading back into a guilty grimace, softened again. She pressed her point. “What I meant to say was that it must have been the same for you two then.”

“Odder, if anything,” he murmured his eyes focused elsewhere— _on them, back at home_. “We were both so aware of you. Going out shopping. Cleaning the house. In bed. You were always _present._ Even when you and the baby were asleep in the other room.” His eyes flashed back to Luna’s. “And odd too because… Well. She and I hadn’t been _alone_ since Hogwarts.”

“You are far more intimate now than you ever where then.”

Now he grinned. “Yeah, well, know what we’re about now, don’t we? But I guess it’s just… Yeah. You were always there, even when you weren’t.”

“Just as she is always here, even when she has given us a lovely evening out to celebrate our anniversary.” They had reached the end of the Alley; before Luna could open the way to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry pulled her aside and snogged her quite soundly once again. Luna was quite certain that she _was_ leaking, and quite certain too that she couldn’t have cared less. When a bell rang half twelve, she whispered into his mouth, “If we get home quickly, perhaps Ginny can help us welcome the New Year in the proper manner.”

Harry just grunted at that.

As they stumbled out of the Floo into their rather lovely flat, Ginny was not there in the sitting room to greet them, which disappointed Luna more than a little. Was Brian awake? There was no sound.

Luna found herself pulling Harry along with an urgency that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the sudden and growing ache in her breasts. They walked into the baby’s room…

Ginny was asleep on the sofa with Brian snoring quietly on her lap, one of her arms laid protectively over his tiny, fluffy body. A half-empty baby bottle lay inches from her free hand. Ginny’s hair flamed across the back of the sofa, and her pale skin and the baby’s glowed in the dim light given off by the dozing fairy who they encouraged to sleep in the nursery.

Harry made a sound that could have been either surprise, longing or aesthetic arrest.

“Yes,” Luna agreed.

“Dunno,” he whispered into her ear, “why I think that’s so beautiful.”

“Because love increases exponentially. And because she looks so content.”

He chuckled quietly. “She looks exhausted.”

“She looks lovely.”

“She can hear you,” Ginny muttered without moving.

“Oh,” said Luna. “We are sorry to wake you.”

Ginny blinked. “What are you two doing back? Is it after midnight already? Thought you’d be off dancing and snogging somewhere. How was dinner?”

“Lovely,” Luna answered.

“Crying baby,” Harry added.

“Huh.” Ginny blinked up at them. “All the comforts of home.”

“Did this one cry much?” Harry asked.

“Nah.” Ginny looked down at Brian, the movement of whose lips suggested that he was dreaming of suckling. “We had a right old party, me and Bri. Sang some songs. Change of clothes. Danced a bit. Fire-called over to his girlfriend Stella and had a nice chat with Ron and Hermione. Danced and sang some more. Had a stiff drink or two. Well, he did.”

Luna found herself moving to them without thinking. “Is he hungry, do you think?”

“Nah,” Ginny said, fingers moving through Brian’s fine black fuzz. “Had this bottle just before eleven. Must’ve passed out with him.” Luna began to reach out to pick the baby up, but Ginny slapped her hand. “G’wan, you two. We’re fine. It’s your anniversary. Go be a couple.”

Harry’s hand touched the small of Luna’s back. “Put him in the cradle,” he said. “Come join us.”

“It’s your anniversary.” Ginny pouted prettily.

Luna smiled. “Having Brian doesn’t make us any less a couple. If anything quite the opposite. The same is true for having you.”

“Besides,” Harry said, picking up Brian from Ginny’s lap, “how are we going to pay you your fee for minding him if you’re in here?” He carried the baby gently to the cradle, whispering sing-song secrets as he rocked him back into deep slumber. “Come on. He’s sleeping. Talking’s for when he’s awake, which will be soon enough.”

Luna pulled Ginny up and kissed her; Harry joined them.

Ginny sighed. “If you insist.”

“We do,” Harry said, and kissed them both; the bells of the church across the square rang and there was a muffled cacophony from the street—noise-makers, claxons. “Happy New Year.”

“Mmm,” murmured Luna, holding her lovers close. “ _Akemashite omedeto gozai masu._ ”

“Ta,” said Ginny and kissed Luna deeply. As Harry steered them out of the baby’s room, Luna considered the fact that sex—which had seemed a bit terrifying just a half an hour before, when she was only thinking of Harry—now seemed like quite a nice idea, when it was the three of them together. Emotions, Luna decided, were funny things.

They had somehow all reached the doorway to the bedroom when Ginny broke the kiss and looked up. A faded sprig of mistletoe hung above them, dark and quiet. “No flaming Nargles?”

Breathless, Luna answered, “Nesting.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Harry said, and pulled both women across the threshold and into the bedroom.


	4. Пылающий нарглы—Pylayushchikh Nargla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays, after all, are about sharing love....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who celebrate the Orthodox holidays, S Rozhdestvóm Khristóvym!
> 
> To the rest of you, just remember—it's always a holiday somewhere. :-)
> 
> Warnings : Implied threesome (gasp!). New parent weirdness. Ex-spouse weirdness. Holiday fluff. Follows HBP canon.
> 
> Note: As always, no Nargles were harmed in the writing of this fic.

_January 7, 2010 (by the Gregorian calendar—December 25, 2009 by the Julian)_

“They're going around the square again,” said Harry, scowling and shifting Brian to his other shoulder.

“How lovely,” Luna sighed. She gazed at the dried-out sprig of mistletoe hanging from the window frame over Harry’s head. “Do you know, I think perhaps we should have left up the Christmas tree.”

“The Christmas tree?” Harry’s frown deepened. 

“Oh yes.” Luna stroked the cheek of the flame-headed baby at her breast. Prodded from sleep, he resumed suckling. “Today is Russian Christmas.”

“Russian Christmas?”

Luna smiled. “Yes. The Eastern churches are still on the Julian calendar, since the Moldovan Mourning Monks were so distrustful of Western Europe—they felt, quite rightly, though for all of the wrong reasons, that our society had been overrun by vampires; I am certain that is why Blaise came today, you see.”

Blinking, Harry said, “Sorry? No, Luna, I can’t say that I do see.”

“Well, of course, Mrs. Zabini would have brought him up to celebrate Christmas and Easter and such in the Russian tradition.” Al’s tiny face molded itself against Luna’s breast; intimate as breastfeeding Brian had been, nursing Ginny and Harry’s child felt all the more magical. “She was, after all, a _Chernya Russkiya_ — a Black Russian.”

“A Black…?” 

“Yes. You’ve heard of them, I’m sure.”

“No,” snorted Harry. Shifting Brian again, he turned back toward the window. “He’s holding her hand!”

“That’s natural, isn’t it?” The baby, his belly apparently full, stopped feeding and collapsed, limp, against Luna’s arm. When he was sleeping like this, she truly felt as close to him as to Brian. Folding away her breast, she smiled up at Harry, sharing all of the joy that she felt. “He is her husband.”

“He…?” Harry blinked back at her. “No. He isn’t.”

Luna shrugged. “Well, he was, after all.”

Harry grunted, shifted the sleeping toddler back to his right shoulder and turned back to the window. He stared silently for a moment, and then stiffened. “They’re coming back up.”

“How nice.” It had been Luna’s idea that Ginny invite Blaise to visit. They had all attended Mrs. Zabini’s memorial, but it did seem to Luna—and, though she had been rather reluctant to admit it, to Ginny— that it was important that Ginny contact her ex-husband now that his mother was dead. Xanthippe Zabini had been a major factor in the failure of their marriage, for one thing. For another, for all that they were no longer married, nevertheless, Ginny and Blaise had loved one another once. Luna was certain—and Ginny agreed, though rather quietly—that this was an opportunity for them to begin a rapprochement. There was too much hatred in the world, it seemed to Luna. It seemed important—especially at this time of the year, when the Nargles were in their oval stage—that any ill feeling that could be got rid of should be. Yes—Blaise could not have chosen this day at random to accept her invitation.

Luna considered, not for the first time, how difficult it must be for the Malfoys, whose name _meant_ “ill feeling.” How unpleasant for them.

Harry, of course, hadn’t seen the point in Ginny speaking with Blaise. He was a wonderful man—really, the most wonderful man in all the world—but there were times when he was rather male. Not as male, perhaps, as Ginny’s brothers, but male enough.

The front door to their flat squeaked open, letting in the rich scent of winter wet. As always, the sight of Ginny took Luna’s breath away: flaming hair wild and snow-chased, cheeks pink. There was something particularly stunning, however, about the sight of Luna’s lover next to her dark, tall, contained ex-husband. It rather reminded Luna of the chocolate-dragonberry swirl ice cream that Ginny loved so. “ _S Rozhdestvóm Khristóvym, Blaise Zeppovich Zabini_ ,” said Luna. 

The holidays, after all, were about sharing love, and Luna had so much to share.

Blaise Zabini blinked at Luna—for him, a highly expressive affect. Then he turned to Ginny, whose gloved hand was still in his. “Think about it, Ginevra.”

Ginny nodded, but her bright eyes flicked, first to Harry, who was carrying the sleeping two-year-old Brian James like a rather large, rather lovely corsage, and then to Luna and Al.

Blaise walked smoothly forward toward Luna, leading Ginny forward as if they were about to break into dance. Lovely. “I am grateful that you have shown such... care to Ginevra since she and I became estranged.” He turned to Harry. “I thank you for showing her—and me—such welcome.” He looked to Ginny, whose eyes seemed to be locked on the soft, sleeping form of her infant in Luna’s arms. Turning himself back to face Luna, he said, “And of course, I would be... willing to welcome the child into my house and raise it as my own.” 

Blaise leaned to kiss Ginny on the bright pink cheek, let go of her hand and strode back to the door. He snapped a bow and gave a thin smile. “ _S Rozhdestvóm Khristóvym,_ _Gaspazha Potter. I s nóvym gódom._ Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you, too, Potter.”

As the door closed behind him, Ginny and Harry remained as still as spooked Thestrals. Snowflakes jeweled her hair. His mouth was set in a straight line.

Ginny began to chew on her lower lip. Her eyes slashed from Al to Harry and back. 

“So,” Harry said, tone impossibly flat.

“So.”

“Without his mother to be afraid of, I suppose he will be much more... open.”

Ginny’s eyes searched Harry’s face. She shrugged. “I... liked his mum. But... she did tie him in knots.”

“And of course, he clearly adores you.”

She shrugged again, but nodded, her eyes still locked on his.

Harry stood up straight. He had on his noble face, one that Luna found quite dear, but that Ginny generally teased him about rather mercilessly. “I... I think. If you still... care for him. I think it would be... great.” He said this last through gritted teeth.

Ginny did not tease him now. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth grew small. She blinked and turned to Luna. Tears waited in the wings of her eyes. 

Harry turned to her as well; his eyes were slits. “Don’t you think so, Luna, love?”

Luna looked at them both, uncertain what to say until her mouth opened of its own accord: “Don’t I think so? _DON’T I THINK SO?_ ” Heat flooded through Luna. “I think he has _SOME BLOODY NERVE!_ I think he was too bloody stupid and too bloody arrogant and _TOO BLOODY FRIGHTENED_ to see what a miracle Ginny is and that he must think that we’re even _MORE IDIOTIC_ to think that we’ll _LET GO OF HER. ‘I would be... WILLING to welcome the child into my house.’ HA! HA!_ ” Luna was shocked to find herself breathing heavily. She scowled at Harry. “The condescending son of a Screwt will have to pry the two of them from my dead hands. And his Russian is terrible. Don’t _you_ think so, Harry?”

“Yeah.” Harry was grinning fiercely at her; his gaze softened, however, as he looked back to Ginny, whose tears were flowing freely now. “I’d die if you left, Ginny. But... if you want to go back to him—”

“No.” Ginny said it, but she said it almost as a question. It had taken Ginny nearly four years to shed the timidity that had been instilled in her by marriage to Blaise Zabini, son of Zeppe. A half an hour had brought it all back. Rage flooded through Luna that this prig, this blackguard, this _bastard_ thought he could walk back into this amazing, beautiful woman’s life and stuff her back into that little purebred-wife box— “No, I... If you don’t mind if we stay.”

“ _Mind_?” laughed Harry.

Luna was on her feet, storming toward Ginny, who looked rather alarmed. “I am breastfeeding your baby. Your baby and Harry’s. Of _course_ we don’t _mind,_ you silly woman!”

Ginny laughed too, tears streaming down her cheeks, and threw her arms around Luna and Albus. The baby wriggled between them as they kissed. Bathed in breasts. Lucky boy.

Harry joined them, Brian still on his shoulder. He kissed them both, and Luna found herself kissing him—kissing them both—with rather more verve than she had felt in some time. Babies were wonderful, but rather exhausting, it was true.

“We love you, Ginny,” Harry sniffled, voice thick in a way that broke Luna’s heart—really, would he never feel capable of believing that they welcomed his love?

“Love you too,” cried Ginny, unrestrained, “both of you, _all_ of you.”

Brian snurffled between them. Among them. “Love du too, Ma Dinny.” He held out his fluffy arms and wrapped them around Ginny’s neck. Within seconds his breathing had settle back into a slow, shallow snore.

Above Ginny’s head, a lone _pop_ shook the dried sprig of mistletoe.

“ _Pylayushchikh Nargla_ ,” murmured Brian in his sleep. Really, his Russian pronunciation was _much_ better than Blaise Zabini’s.

_The holidays are about family_ , Luna reminded herself. _And this is our family_. Sunreturn. Dewali. Flarkfyr. Hannukah. Christmas—Western and Orthodox. New Year. 

Flaming nargles, all the year round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. All the year round. May your Nargles be flaming, and bright!


End file.
